Reining in the Apocalypse
by Username666
Summary: A ruby ring is found in Loki's secret stash of artifacts. War 'misplaced' it many years ago and Death is not amused. The Avengers face their greatest foes yet; the four horsemen of the Apocalypse. (NON-CANON, FANERDS! AU/OOC TO THE MAX!)
1. Chapter 1

**Prompt by the lovely PrawnNetwork. Keep on keepin' on, luv.**

" _Holy shit_..."

Everything gleamed, etched in green runes that would probably turn mortal bones to chicken soup. There were staffs, cloaks, swords and daggers and maces and every crum of gold or sliver of fabric was shelled in an emerald shield.

The cavern was filled with mountains of artifacts.

And he couldn't play with any of it.

"Is it, uh," Tony hummed, cautiously edging around a hungry-looking chest with what looked like _human legs_ sprouting out of its sides. " _safe_ to touch anything?"

"Probably not, Stark." Rogers replied through the comm link. "Wait for Thor." The good captain was cleaning up the remains of Loki's more elaborate traps involving several ticked off geese and a bucket of super glue.

Tony's armored hand twitched. _Maybe_ , he reasoned, _there's something Loki missed_. The treasure trove took up the greater part of a hollowed-out hill, and surely the mad god hadn't enough time to enchant everything. His stint on earth wasn't terribly long. The self-proclaimed genius wandered past stolen paintings and statues, and felt more like the lost and foot-sore hobbit then the red-scaled dragon. Tony couldn't touch _anything_ , and was close to giving up when he spotted a round, black box resting on a lone pillar. Nothing had been placed within several yards of it, and the stone ground had been swept clean but most importantly _it wasn't green_.

Holding his breath, Stark inched up to the pillar. _Not all of Loki's enchantments were green,_ he reminded himself. But something drove him closer, the need to touch it, to steal a priceless object from his enemy, to _win_.

Iron Man shuffled closer and brushed the black box with his gauntlet. Nothing had exploded, or turned into lions, or became exploding lions so he closed his metal hand and lifted the ill-gotten prize.

 _1...2..._

Tony breathed out and popped the case open. A thick, gold-banded rind was inside. It had a heavy red gemstone, a flawless square ruby, and gave the impression of breaking noses without having a hand to guide it. _My precious_ , Stark huffed sarcastically. The ring was thoughtlessly pocketed in an empty missile storage container and the box returned to it's throne.

"Man of Iron!" Thor called from the glowing maze.

"Over here, Thunderpants."

Thunder god and mortal man quickly sorted what could remain on earth (not an awful lot.) and what would be locked away safely in Asgard. The ring rattled around in its new metal home and was forgotten.

Very, very far away, beneath the burning fire at the heart of earth, something stirred.

And it was Pissed.

* * *

"You lost it." The pale man said calmly, mopping up gravy and cheese curds with a limp potato wedge.

"I didn't lose it, it was stolen." His brother spat. He sawed away at his under-cooked stake, sharpening the knife with his anger. "I left it somewhere safe, and someone moved it."

"Safe, little one?" The term of endearment was soured with disapproval. "A gold ring in a cave? Things like that have a way of being found, War." The pale man paused to sip noisily from his straw.

"Well, where did you leave yours?!" War snapped, stabbing through the plate, and half an inch of table with his butter-knife. "You have a job, Death, same as the rest of us. We can't carry our true rings on our hands where anyone can reach it!"

Death twisted his lips into a thin smile that revealed more dagger-like fangs then a front seat view down the throat of a shark without showing a single tooth. He pulled a silver pendent out of his white collar as he leaned forwards, flashing an unearthly black opal before dropping it back into place.

"If one was brave enough, and fast enough, and stupid enough to reach mine," The eldest horseman replied dryly, "I would be tempted to let them have it."

War grumbled around a fork of tortured steak.

"Chew, please." His brother admonished softly, cleaning his hands on a napkin. _Someday_ , he thought idly, _I'll actually pay for a meal_. Not today, of course. With both brothers in the restaurant, all that remained of staff and diners was a bloody mess. The waitress that served them had been stabbed to death by a grandmother angry over an imagined slight involving an ugly blouse. "Where is the ring now?"

War, wisely, swallowed before replying. "New York."

"I suppose I'll fetch it," Death sighed reluctantly. "Or Famine. I'm sure he'd _love_ to."

"Oh, no!" War cried. "I'll get it, the others don't need to know!"

"Consider it your punishment." The eldest raised his eyebrow. It was a face recognized by all younger siblings as the ' _if you were any dumber, i'd have to breath for you_ ' face shared by many older brothers and sisters alike. "And a warning to the others. Teach our brothers a lesson in caution."

"There are more important things going on, Death!" Protested War desperately. "Like the _apocalypse?_ "

"Oh, yes. _That._ " Death rubbed his wrist irately. Ancient thoughts drifted towards teaching a lesson to a certain puffed up pigeon about _Respecting One's Elders_. "It can wait."

"W-" War was stunned into mute gum-flapping. " _Wait?_ You're going to put the fuckin' _apocalypse_ on hold?"

"Language." The indefinitely old and immensely powerful being reprimanded with a tone in the audio representation of slapping War's hand for a misdemeanor. The physical embodiment of destruction and bloodlust blushed like a six year old caught saying 'crap'.

"Well, we can't just reschedule the end of the world." The red horseman muttered, scraping a bit of the Benson's family at table four off his stake with a warped butter knife. "We've been waiting for it since the damn- darn lice-infested thing first popped up."

Death silently finished off his drink. His little brothers didn't understand the way Death did. Without Earth, what were they? Personifications with personality were useless if there wasn't someone to _pay attention_. The eldest horseman had put endless years of thought into the whole 'apocalypse' business and found it to be one of the most ridiculous plans in existence. Why build to destroy? Why create millions of lives only to snuff them out with a careless wave of His hand? Trying to think of it from God's view didn't help, as the thought of allowing, no purposefully _plotting_ to end all of Death's creations, his reapers, his brothers, was like trying to swallow his own scythe. It might be possible, but it would kill him.

"We- _all of us, War_ \- will go to retrieve your ring. It shouldn't take long."

And that was the end of it.

Death always has the last word.

* * *

Tony Stark sat in the basement with only the company of several friendly bottles. Pepper was in Italy trying to wrestle the company's stained reputation into submissiveness with the new 'Avengers' hype. Thor was in Asgard for the next few days and Bruce had taken up volunteer work. Tony secretly thought that his science bro had started thinking about What Comes After and was filling up his saintly card as fast as possible, but that thought was depressing so he drowned it in a bottle like the rest of his taboo contemplation as he ran his thumb over a sanguine-stone ring.

In fact, the only other person in the building currently was Rogers, kicking around in the kitchen half a dozen floors above. That meant no-one was there to take notice of JARVIS suddenly losing visual and in fact forgetting that the effected basement even existed. Death has that sort of impact, even on _artificial_ intelligence.

"I'm going to rip out his spleen and use it to beat his loved ones to death while he watches paralyzed." War growled, walking through Stark Tower's closed doors, which were too frightened to insist that they were solid. Outside the building, cars crashed, brawls broke out, the bird flu was introduced to New York and a couple started alternating between pulling off each-other's clothes and and strangling their partner with a sock. Somewhere further up the building, Steve's souffle crumpled and caught on fire while the soldier ate cookie dough ice-cream in Stark's massive fridge.

"You will _politely_ ask Mr Stark to return your ring." Death said firmly. War's iron-clad anger wavered at his brother's tone. "Then you will apologize for the inconvenience and put your ring in a _proper_ resting place."

Pestilence snickered behind a withered hand while Famine wheezed out a bold laugh, leaning on his cane. Normally, the second oldest horseman would take his wheelchair, but the thought of being left behind and missing out on even a second of War's embarrassment urged Famine to his feet.

"You didn't even ask where _they_ hid _their_ rings!"War's fear-inspiring voice bordered on whiny.

Famine patted his shriveled belly with a shaking hand. "Ate mine. Seemed fitting."

Pestilence pulled out a amulet similar to Death's. Instead of an black opal set in silver, Pestilence's was a unearthly blue moonstone dangling from a bronze chain. "We take them with us." He sneered wetly.

"So they can't get 'lost'." Famine added helpfully.

War fell into silent seething as the brothers reached the basement. Everything was chrome and shiny and covered with gutted machines or half-baked inventions. In the midst of the inventor's tornado, Stark tinkered with a gold-banded ruby ring.

"Good morning." Death spoke genially, prodding War with an elbow that felt far more bony then it looked.

Tony dropped the ring.

"Uh, good morning..?" The 'genius' replied uncertainly. "Are you guys super-villains?"

"I want my ring back." War snarled, somehow putting to mind a viking in full steel armor while physically looking as dangerous as a drunk ferret.

His brother nudged him again with enough force to punch a hole right through earth and knock another two planets out of orbit.

"...Please."

"Are- are you gonna do evil things with it?" Tony tightened his grip on the ring.

" _I apologize for the inconvenience,_ " The horseman ground out the words like a death-threat. " _Please_ give me back my ring." Famine had to sit down to keep from falling over, shaking with glee. Pestilence wasn't much better off, but wisely tried to hide it, with minimal success. The corner of Death's mouth twitched faintly.

"No."

They stopped laughing.

Stark slipped the ring onto his thumb and crossed his arms, feeling a little drunk with adrenaline and alcohol flooding his senses. He figured he could fend off two old men, a lawyer-looking fool and a sickly doctor while JARVIS called in Rogers or Banner.

War started to swell like a pissed cat. His plain features melted into a properly inhuman Personification and the smell of the dying and the dead swept through the room. The terror of a single soldier standing against an army hit Tony like a hammer and he stepped back without feeling either of his legs move.

 _Definitely super-villains_ , a distant smart-ass part of Stark snarked.

 _GIVE IT BACK!_ A war cry echoed hotly in the back of the mortal's head as War charged. Panicked, Tony struck the horseman in the face.

War was thrown back into an overburdened table, staggering as pain bloomed over his bruised back and shattered face. Blood dripped down his twisted nose as the realization set in; _He didn't have his ring_.

For the first time since he was only the angry thought between two fighting apes, War felt like the fool Death insisted he was and fell to his knees. He was still a Personification, immortal, but powerless. War looked desperately to his brothers.

Pestilence was clutching his amulet in both hands, looking sicker than ever. Famine chuckled smugly, taking out a phone to save the moment. (Famine was rather impressed by humans, both technology and personality wise. Maybe he would post it on tumblr.) And Death, the eldest, the strongest, smiled.

He pulled War up and wiped the blood from his little brother's face with a handkerchief and dared to smile as though the other horseman had just marked particularly well in a test. Rage burned in War's stomach as another epiphany followed on the heels of the first.

 _The bastard knew that would happen_.

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr Stark. We should have lunch, some day." Death gestured for Pestilence and Famine to leave, gripping War tightly as he ushered them out. "Until next time."

Within seconds, Tony was alone again, cradling his bruised hand. It wasn't until later that evening that he tried to show Steve, who was nursing the Loki of all brain-freezes, what happened that he noticed JARVIS had been disconnected from the basement and that none of his teammates had been aware of the security breach. It was for the best, though. If the Hulk or Captain America had entered the scene...

Death may have saved Tony's life.

* * *

War was sulking. He was a champion sulker, being a stranger to defeat. But defeated he was. By a _mortal_.

Death had urged him right into that trap as a lesson to Pestilence and Famine, and to War himself. Which was all well and good except instead of letting any of the horsemen turn the impudent jackass into a puddle of sarcasm with their lessons learned, The Grim Reaper pulled them away like children who didn't want to leave the park.

He could still walk through walls, or chose not to let people notice him, or nudge their minds into interesting shapes, granted they were off guard or weak-willed, but he couldn't overturn a tank with a flick of his fingers and felt the agony of his injuries, lacking the impenetrable skin and immeasurable strength supplied by his ring.

War was bitter, ripping grass up as he watched some soldiers shorten the lives of themselves and others. Even the wholesale slaughter wasn't enough to cheer him back up, so he ramped it up a bit and convinced someone to blow up a school, only to find it was empty. The soldier responsible fell to his knees and praised his luck, which didn't help War's mood at all.

"It's a good thing it was empty," Pestilence flopped down beside his brother. "Death would-"

" _He_ can shove his sense of _moral_ up his bony ass!" War exploded. Pestilence glanced around nervously, half-expecting the eldest to pop into existence and berate them. Death kept a far closer eye on Pestilence then either of his brothers, seemingly always concerned over the youngest, most vulnerable horseman.

"I'm just saying," The sickly being continued. "you shouldn't go out of your way to kill a bunch of mud-monkeys. There's usually a schedule-"

"A schedule! You sound like a mortal, Pest. _Humans_ order time into segments and spend their miserable lives counting down to their graves. _Mortals_ bother with petty morals. They are below us and worse of all-" War flushed in anger. "Worse of all, Death _caters_ to them! He finds them amusing! He put that damn mud-monkey before me, _his own fucking brother!_ "

Pestilence fell silent and let his brother rant. He was right, after all. Wasn't he?

* * *

Death felt he had made many mistakes over his long, long existence. He had tried his best, doing his job and teaching his brothers. He had stood by Famine, showing him how to plant the seeds of hunger in Leviathans (Death may have over done it). He had guided War during the first battle, when Heaven clashed with Hell and all was brimstone, chaos and betrayal. He had knelt beside Pestilence when the young being had given the first child the very first cold, using illness as a means to strengthen humans, not weaken them.

Death may have been to lax in the beginning, insisting Famine and War discover their unique powers on their own. He had hoped they would make mistakes and learn from them. Instead they turned cruel, corrupted by freedom and abilities gifted to children.

War took enjoyment in culling Mankind, in watching families tear one-another apart in anger. Death had failed to teach him how battle could change people for the better, could keep the world fresh and new by rooting out tyranny and allowing humanity to grow.

Famine let his own hunger drive him. He hollowed people out and filled them with relentless need because he felt he lacked something himself. Death didn't know what Famine was starved of, and decided to let the dark horseman figure it out on his own. It was a choice he still dithered over.

Watching his brothers wreak havoc made Death more unyielding. With the creation of Pestilence, brought into being by humans and likely to end with them as well, Death tried to be more hands on. He walked his youngest brother through human camps, and took him out with hunting patrols. Death showed Pestilence the impact sickness had, how it gave the weak rest and made those who survived it hardier. He watched his baby brother longer and closer, hoping to teach at least one being the value of a human life. Sadly, Pest was more human then any. The progression of medicine hit him hard, and Pestilence sacrificed how he _believed_ it should be done, the way Death had taught him, and instead settled for efficiency. He became moody and frustrated, distancing himself from his brothers.

But for all the flaws of his brothers, Death loved them. He thought about the Archangel Michael, who cast down his own brother, and felt the first tinge of disgust he had ever had towards another being. He thought of his counterpart, God, and the disgust deepened. For all the mistakes he had made, Death felt safe in the assertion that they weren't as bad as His. Of the same caliber, possibly, but on a smaller scale. God had been too distant to humanity, and too close to his angels. Mankind didn't notice his absence but Heaven certainly did. Would it be the same if Death disappeared? Would Pest and the reapers panic or declare war while Famine and War didn't even register anything different?

Death wasn't much of a meddler most times, but as he rubbed the black gemstone of his true 'ring' he realized that earth was the battleground of His mistakes, and that was definitely in his jurisdiction.

Perhaps he would let the 'iron man' keep War's ring awhile longer.

* * *

 **Fun facts! War's gemstone, ruby, represents passion, while Death's, black opal, is rebirth and death. Orange aventurine is used to suppress hunger during fasting for Famine, and Pestilence's gemstone is moonstone, meant to encourage health.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the lovely review pj(guest)!**

* * *

Tony sat in the kitchen, rubbing the ruby gemstone as the ring pulsed faintly on his thumb.

"And it won't come off?" Bruce asked worriedly.

"Not with butter." His friend replied. Steve hovered uncertainly by the island, on the edge of cooking up a storm from nerves.

"How did they get in? How did they disable JARVIS?" Rogers wrung his hands. He wasn't normally so volatile, but he still had a stomach ache from eating an entire 2L bucket of ice-cream in one sitting. He was usually in control, being so easily tempted shook the highly moral man to the core (which was currently thawing out).

"I dunno. Maybe they walked through the walls." Stark said mockingly, "Oh, wait, they did. It was almost like they had _super powers_ or something!"

Banner tugged on the ring but it was stuck fast. "Where did you get this, anyway?"

There was a pause as they considered their last 'magic' mission.

"Stark, did you-"

"No." Tony's face gave a good try at hiding behind his beard.

" _Tony_." Bruce made the ' _I'm disappointed in you, you deaf ball of ignorance_ ' look. Bruce was very good at insulting looks.

"A little." He amended.

"How can it be only _a little_ stolen from an evil pagan god?" They were cut off by someone knocking politely on the window.

16 stories up.

Steve opened the window and Thor crawled in, looking no more wind-swept then usual.

"Did you just fly up here?" Tony asked incredulously while pouring an extra cup of coffee and dumping a box of pop-tarts on the marble island.

"Of course not, Tony." Thor said, almost sounding human as he pounced on the toast-able treat. "I climbed."

"Whatever, Thor do you recognize this?" Bruce pulled Stark's empty hand closer to the thunder god. Thor examined it closely between crumbly bites of a blueberry tart, giving a cautionary tug to the digit that nearly dislocated Tony's thumb.

"No. This is not my brother's mischief." Thor finally commented, letting Tony go. "I do not recall ever witnessing a power like it."

"Tony stole it from Loki's cache and four men came looking for it today," Bruce explained. "They knocked out JARVIS and walked right through the walls."

"I broke someone's nose." Tony added proudly, gesturing to his discoloured hand. Power ring or not, a mortal fist hitting a slab of immortal face was still rather detrimental to the mortal.

"Is the all-seeing one alright?" The pagan asked with concern. The idea of JARVIS being a disembodied machine never really stuck in his mind.

"I am no longer compromised, Mr Odinson." The AI assured them. "May I ask what brings you back to Earth so early, sir?"

"Oh, hey, yeah, aren't you busy fixing the rainbow bridge?" Thor shoved half a raspberry into his mouth and tried to answer through a shower of crumbs.

"Fin'sh'd." The prince started digging out another box from the cupboard.

"Fixing the bridge?" Bruce blinked, snaring a strawberry before Thor could finish those off too.

"What about Loki's cache?" Steve pitched in.

Thor took the time to swallow before filling his teammates in. "Part of my brother's punishment is repairing the Bifrost. Loki had built a working prototype and the palace scribes are sorting out the artifacts."

Stark could hardly believe his ears. "You're trusting crazy to fix your interplanetary van?" He huffed into his coffee. "Didn't he try to commit genocide with that bridge?"

"Loki is the greatest Sorcerer in Asgard," Thor pointed out. "It pains me but Loki is of too great use not to be taken advantage of. He is well guarded and has restraints in place made for magic-users."

"Isn't that what we said just before he almost knocked Fury's Vetibird out of the air?" Tony muttered uncertainly. "Fine, you tied the string on that bag of cats, what about the ring? It made me as strong as Hercules' older brother." Stark demonstrated by forcing Banner's spoon into corkscrew around his finger.

"There are enchantments that can increase one's strength, but I know not more of them. Perhaps Loki-"

"Whoa, look Thor, I'm all for second chances but you aren't bringing Loki here just to look at a ring." Steve cut in. "And how do we know he'd tell us the truth?"

"My father has enchanted Loki so he cannot lie, neither does identifying this artifact require his presence on earth." The thunder god nicked a fork from the cutlery drawer and carved an accurate, though crude, image of the ring into the marble island. "I will bring this tablet to my brother. He will know what it is."

"That could work," Tony ran a finger over the ruined stone. "Or you could take a picture."

* * *

Death felt like a calzone. That wasn't some philosophy nonsense comparing the inevitable end of all living beings and a few already dead ones to an Italian pocket pizza. The day had just started with an immortal being thinking fondly of that pizza place on the corner that defied all expectations by remaining in business and mostly alive after the Grim Reaper finished his order.

The eldest horseman had the faint feeling in the back of his mind shared by those that don't pay attention to time that he had somewhere he needed to be at a certain moment, and that place just so happened to be Al's diner in New York at lunch time.

He had sat down and started on a lovely greasy meal just as Tony Stark walked in to pick up an order. Thor had returned to Asgard with a printed image of the ring and the remaining Avengers had ordered pizza as a distraction.

"Mr Stark," Death called, sending a shudder down Tony's back. None of the diner patrons took notice of the multimillionaire, and wouldn't take note of much of anything until Death left the diner. "I had hoped we might have lunch."

"I broke a man's nose." Stark said dumbly as he approached Death's table on numb legs.

"Yes, I was there."

"We only met last night, I didn't want to look desperate by calling the morning after." Stark's infamous sarcasm kicked in as he set down at Death's table. The Grim reaper smiled.

"Pizza?" He offered a generous portion of untouched food. The inventor refused with a jerky shake of his head.

"So, since we're both here and all..." Tony took a deep breath. "Who are you and what is this ring and is that _veggie pizza you inhuman bast_ -" Stark inexplicably choked on the curse.

" _And I looked and behold, a pale horse, and the name that sat on him was Death,_ " The horseman looked straight into Tony's eyes as he got the impression that there was a Skull under that skin, and not the sort you usually see if you look hard into a stranger's face. "Do you know the rest?"

"So... you're part of a religious cult?" He guessed.

"I am Death," The Grim Reaper stated simply, "and you hold the power of War in the form of a ring." He examined Tony's slack face. "The man whose nose you broke?" He prompted.

"You aren't..." Stark attempted to manually reboot his systems. "I don't... Prove it."

Death calmly took a neighbor diner's steak-knife and attempted to drive it through Tony's hand. The knife crumpled a hairsbreadth from the mortal's skin, twisting like a metal snake to avoid piercing the hide of War.

Tony snatched his hand back, clenching it against his chest. "That doesn't prove anything-"

"I have found in my life that if a man is truly determined not to believe something, nothing could possibly change that, and I have lived a very, very long time." Death finished his pizza and placed a crumpled twenty under his empty chocolate milk glass. "We should have dinner sometime."

Before Tony could protest, he found himself alone at the table. People starting stirring around him and no-one seemed to notice that they had lost several inventor wondered how many times a day that happened to people, and whether he had ever been one of them. Puzzled and frustrated, Stark picked up his order and continued back to the tower.

* * *

"I know it, yes." Loki hardly bothered looking up from his work. The newborn Bifrost curled around his long fingers, pulsing sleepily. It was difficult to cradle a rainbow with chained hands but Loki had the instincts of an experienced mother and took care to avoid letting the metal binds touch the young life. "I pity the man who tried to remove it. Stark, going by the state of his thumb."

"This is serious, brother." Thor pled with a mix of anger and childish despair. "What is this ring?"

"I'm sure you'll find out soon enough." The lie-smith replied smoothly. "I didn't dare touch it on Midgard so the owner never noticed my meddling, but Stark saw something shiny and put it on. Of _course_ he noticed."

"But who is the owner?" If Loki hadn't been holding the Bifrost, which its mother had taken to calling Hvisla, Thor would have shaken his irritating little brother. Fortunately, even the normally dense thunder god wasn't fool enough to threaten one of the fire god's children.

Loki hummed in thought. Odin's enchantments kept him from lying, but Loki rarely truly lied anyhow. Twisting words was far more challenging and rewarding.

"I know what you're thinking, Loki." Thor growled. "Just answer me, with five words or less!"

"Five words? Five words and you'll leave me be?"

"Yes, five words!"

Loki smiled. " ' _And Hell followed with him_ '."

It was not as clear as Thor had wanted, but Loki felt the need for some amount of revenge. Thor had killed the last Bifrost, after all, though Loki had misused it as well. Loki started humming a soft lullaby to Hvisla and secretly found something worth sparing Asgard for.

No matter of persuasion, bribery or intimidation could coax another word out of Loki and Thor returned to Midgard in defeat, carrying five words.

* * *

Thor found his friends brooding around half a cold pizza and helped himself to the remains.

"Find anything, thunderpants?" Tony asked from his position sprawled across his leather couch and parts of the wall.

"Loki was... not very forward."

"What a surprise."

"But he did tell me something." Thor added, squeezing his massive frame into a wide chair. "Loki said 'and Hell followed with him.' Do you recognize it, friend Banner?"

"It's a line from the book of Revelations." Bruce pointed out.

"Like the one Skeletore gave me earlier." Stark perked, nearly falling off the back of the couch.

"The same one, actually. The full verse is 'And I looked, and behold a pale horse, whose name was Death, and Hell followed with him. And they were given authority over a fourth of the earth, to kill with sword and with famine and with pestilence and by the wild beasts of the earth.' Or something like that." Steve blushed as three sets of surprised eyes fell on him. "The army gives you a bible, for when you're waiting in the foxholes." He explained, embarrassed.

"Well the guy I saw claimed he was Death and I had the power of War." Tony tapped the ruby ring. "So the other two are Famine and Pestilence, right?"

"Conquest, actually. In the old-" Steve realised he was getting looks again and bit his tongue. "Sure, Pestilence."

"It seems that War is powerless while you have his ring, though." Bruce mused. "And Death isn't making a move, yet. Should we return it?"

"Return it? Hey, I'm sure Sauron would love his ring back, too!"

The group lapsed into silence. Thor and Bruce thought it was probably better in the hands of the immortal being who owned it, since the world hadn't blown up in the millions of years that War had held it. Steve wondered if the Avengers would have to stop the apocalypse and whether or not Fury should be told.

"Maybe we should throw it in a volcano." Tony suggested.

"We'd have to throw you in with it." suggested Bruce snidely. "It's stuck on your hand and you're pretty much bombproof now."

"Oh, yeah! I'm immortal guys!" Leaping from couch, Tony struck a heroic pose and made for the window. Thor stopped him.

"Midgardian metal does not harm me either, friend Stark, but I wouldn't push it."

"Does this mean you're the new War?" Steve broke in thoughtfully.

Stark thought for a moment, scratching his beard. "I think Death and I should have that dinner. Anyone have his number?"

* * *

War had always been a problem child. It's good to love your work, as they say, but War had more lived and breathed his work. The pure essence of battle flowed from him, making fights both physical and otherwise break out around him without any effort required. It was worse the closer he was to his brothers and the stronger his emotions, and War was very emotional. He felt at least four degrees of anger at any given day.

Being the second youngest, he sometimes acted for attention. Maybe he hit Pestilence a little too hard. Maybe Europe didn't need another war. And, well maybe that penguin colony had been cute and he didn't need to encourage them into orca infested waters because nothing was on tv.

But like many younger siblings, War felt every flaw and issue could be traced firmly back to the oldest. He privately thought Death payed too much attention to Pestilence, spent too much time in Europe (though there had been a plague at the time). He couldn't think up a good excuse for the penguins and blamed it on violent television.

War wouldn't tell Death any of that for a hundred civil wars and instead bitterly sat in Hungary plotting with Pestilence. Famine showed up, having sensed his brothers and being terribly fond of Hungary. He thought it might be the name.

"Death isn't going to get my ring back," War stated in his usual tone, which just so happened to be anger. "He probably 'encouraged' that _fucking_ mud-monkey to take it in the first place."

"It certainly taught you a lesson." Famine wheezed. "Do you have any more artifacts on you? I'm sure your flaming sword would do fine in a stone, not like that ever backfired. Maybe you should bury it."

War flushed and kicked Famine's skinny leg. Without his ring, he felt and acted like a child sitting in a too big chair.

"We have an apocalypse to keep!" He snarled, sending a flock of birds into a scrap over a handful of seeds. "Death wants to _put if off!_ "

That caught his older brother's attention. "Put off the apocalypse?" Famine gasped incredulously. "You can't just move the end of the world around!"

"He must have a reason." Pestilence defended their absent brother. You never knew when Death was listening. "And Famine's right. Death is trying to teach you a lesson about leaving your stuff laying around." Pestilence leaned away from War's attempted cuff with practiced ease.

"Death's losing it. We've been counting down Earth's years since it began." War insisted. "This isn't about my ring, it's about the _three_ horsemen of the apocalypse. We are supposed to usher in the end and Death's getting caught up over Lucifer pulling his chain."

"Chain?" Pestilence inquired. The older two shared a look.

"You know how Death spends most of the time-" Imprisoned came to mind but Famine decided to be kind, "-asleep? He's only... woken up twice since you were trained enough to sneeze at people alone."

Pestilence bristled a little but nodded. "Noah's Ark, of course I remember."

"Well when Lucifer woke him up, he sort of... collared Death." Famine finished awkwardly. The older brothers had found it a bit amusing, actually, but putting it into words made the dark horseman feel no small amount of shame. "So he wouldn't... interfere with... the..." Famine cleared his throat weakly. "Apocalypse."

"That hasn't stopped Death from meddling." War huffed bitterly. "Probably planned for this to happen from the start."

"But doesn't that mean this isn't the end?" Pestilence asked with a worried look. "Doesn't Death decide?"

"No, Heaven and Hell decide." Famine rebuffed. "Look Pest, Death will have to go along with it anyway. The Winchesters can't stop it and if Lucifer tells Death to start smiting Chicago or something he'll have to do it."

Pestilence thought in the manner of most immortals, that is, very long and more complicatedly than most mortals can contemplate. Finally he said; "If Lucifer is ordering Death around, why is he having lunch in New York?"

"You got that too?" Famine pulled out his phone and showed War the picture the eldest had sent them.

"Death takes pictures of his food?" War asked, horrified.

"He thinks it's funny."

"Look, we aren't meeting to- to-"

"It's called Instagram. Death says he finds like-minded people there."

"We're meeting to overthrow Death!" War shouted over Famine.

"We are?" Pestilence drew in a breath sharply. "No, we're not."

"We are." War asserted, taking Famine's phone away. "We will get my ring back and push the apocalypse ourselves."

Pestilence considered walking away then, but in Death's absence he had grown dependent of his other brothers. The part of Pestilence that had been born by a child's sniffles squirmed uncomfortably away from the thought of the immensely powerful Immortal being leashed to an angel throwing a tantrum and the apocalypse as a whole, though the larger part that had placed the black plague on the back of rats reveled in the freedom.

Pestilence followed.

* * *

 **In the Queen's name, let me write in British English! THERE IS AN U IN THAT WORD, FANFICTION! STOP CHANGING MY S's INTO Z's!**

 **Canadian problems, eh?**

 **PS I love that calzone paragraph. I've been reading Terry Pratchett and I think it's making an impact!**

 **PPS Anyone get the Fallout reference? ;3**

 **Very last PPPS Hvisla is Icelandic for 'whisper'. I use that name for stealth playthroughs in Skyrim, and grym y gaeaf, which is Welsh for 'Force of Winter' for Nords.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for reviewing, Guest and pj(guest)! I'm glad you like it so far!**

* * *

Death was not in the phone-book. Thor didn't know enough about Midgardian entities to attempt to find him, but Loki had rambled long and often about the 'upstarts' he had met in his travels, and something had miraculously stuck in the broken cobweb of the thunder god's mind. Loki had spoken often of a man named Robert Singer who taught the fire god plenty of things about the local deities (under an alias, of course. It had taken three burnings and one misplaced stake to convince Loki to resort to disguise.)

They had thought long and argued often before it was decided that Steve and Tony would go, for fairly obvious reasons.

"He shot my brother and lived. Even a son of Odin's courage has limits."

"He's a 'hunter'... It wouldn't go well."

So mid morning the next day found Tony, armored and perhaps a bit tipsy, and Steve, thoroughly sick from the Iron Man powered flight, knocking on the hunter's door.

The door opened a crack and a bleary eye glared out of it. "Whaddya want?"

"Do you have Death's phone number?" Tony snarked through his closed helmet. "He invited me to dinner but didn't say where or when."

The eye looked the costumed heroes up and down critically. "Avengers, right? What do you want with Death?"

"Answers, sir." Steve replied politely. "A... an acquaintance of ours mentioned that you specialize in..."

"Demons, ghosts and monsters, boy." The door opened wider and a grumpy bearded face invited them in. "You can leave your fancy suit outside with the cars, kid." Though reluctant, Tony complied. He still had the ring, after all.

The three settled in a dusty, cluttered living room and Singer dropped several cold beers on the coffee table, shifting a stack of books to the ground to make room. The room was heavy with dust and filled bookshelves with foreign titles lined the walls.

"What you after Death for?" The old hunter popped the cap off his beer with a battered penny and took a swig.

"Tony picked up this ring," Steve began, gesturing to the ruby jewelry on Stark's hand. "These men came looking for it. One of them said his name was Death." Rogers turned the cold bottle over in his hands thoughtfully. "Oh, and they walked through walls, and Tony's pretty much indestructible with the ring on- which we can't remove."

"And they didn't smite you into mush?" Bobby snorted in disbelief.

"Do they.. usually do that?"

"The bleeding horsemen of the Apocalypse, of course they do!" The hunter got up with a slow creak of tired bones and pulled an ancient book off a shelf, wiping a decade's worth of dirt and unpleasant things off the cover. The title had been burned into the leather surface to prevent fading and read _Belua voco liber._ "Usually you'd need to kill off entire towns to summon Death but since he's kicking around anyhow..." Bobby slimmed the pages quickly and settled on a passage. "Burn the branch of a Cherry tree and say _et huc venerunt- oh inferni-_ and he'll show up and turn you inside out."

"Anyway to summon him without dying?" Stark rolled his eyes sarcastically.

"He likes pizza." Bobby deadpanned.

"So, if Death and the others are in America..." Rogers chewed on his lip. "Well, why are they in America?"

"Why d'ya think, boy?" The hunter fixed Steve in a piercing look. Despite being many years older, Steve felt himself shrink under the unwavering stare and realized the old man was waiting for an answer.

"Er, the apocalypse, sir?" Steve ventured. Bobby gave him a patronizing nod. "Well, how do we stop them?"

"Get all the rings." Bobby replied immediately. "Pretty much powerless without them. I'm surprised War left his laying about. As soon as the ring latches on to someone else it sticks with them. Fickle little bastards."

"We think Loki stole it." Stark commented, polishing the ring with his sleeve. "Hey, does this mean I'm the new War?"

"Course not." Singer snapped. "You can't replace Personifications, kid. War's still immortal and pissed, so don't go thinking the defanged dog is harmless. But he is weakened, and if you can get the other rings then you might be able to stop it all. Look, the lot of them will come looking for War's ring. That's the only time you'll be able to find them. That's all I can tell you." Bobby finished off his beer and placed it heavily on the coffee table, dismissing them.

A little disheartened, the Avengers left and prepared for siege.

Death watched nearby, easing his grip on Bobby Singer's mind. The Grim Reaper's decision would set Hell on his heels, but if that was what it took to free himself and his brothers from Lucifer's shadow, Hell would find the Pale Horseman with his Scythe readied.

* * *

War had spent most of the night thinking. It did not come naturally to him, so it took up a large chunk of time. He considered the Opposition and how they would defeat the Avengers without Death, as none of the brothers had seen him since after War's embarrassing defeat. Normally, he would not doubt the chances of even three of the horsemen against any enemy, but without his ring felt the delicate grip of Potential Consequences squeezing him. There was the beast Banner, who could be easily manipulated by a surge of anger from War, but an angrier Hulk would not make for an easier fight. Stark still had the ring and Rogers was no light-weight, by mortal standards at least. Pestilence didn't know if he could down a god but Famine stated he could deal with them all without trouble. The sensibility often repressed by War's more primal instincts pointed out that the mortals could capture Famine's ring if the Personification took significant damage (which was certainly a possibility when facing the Hulk) but was urged aside by his battle-lust and it was decided that Famine would attempt to defeat them first.

Famine found Bruce Banner alone in the tower, Thor having been recalled by Odin over one of Loki's fits (there was a dragon involved and may have begun over the king describing Hvisla's growth as 'lacking') Famine was disappointed at the lack of targets but searched Banner's mind anyways. The man hungered for... Absolution and forgiveness? Most mortals wanted money or company and Famine was momentarily put off.

Only for a moment, of course, before he set to work. The image of Doubt was placed in Banner's unsuspecting sub-conscience, and the dark horseman watched with glee as Bruce sat up from his lazy position on the couch and started fidgeting guiltily. The mortal felt like he should be doing more for the newest 'stop-the-world-ending' plan and Famine eagerly deepened the shame.

Seized by desperate drive, Bruce got up and started pacing. The room seemed to shrink down on him and make it hard to breath as the doctor reminded himself half-heartedly that the others would be back soon and they could continue digging up information on the horsemen. A small mental nudge from the hidden horseman brought Banner to his knees and Famine stepped out to gloat, a useless habit Death could never break him of.

"And War said you'd be a problem." Famine laughed thinly. Bruce looked a bit ill as the Personification stooped over him. "All I had to do was whisper 'you lazy ass' and you rolled over." The mortal looked positively green now, and Famine thought delightedly that he might be sick from guilt.

It was the last thought to enter his mind before the Hulk ripped him in half.

* * *

It was approaching evening by the time Steve and Tony got back to Stark Tower and found the doctor in the kitchen wearing one of Thor's far-too-large robes. Bruce didn't look up from his cup of tea as he stared blankly at the kitchen wall, a plate of neglected cookies at his elbow. A new ring gleamed on his hand; the metal was a curious alloy with an orange stone set in it.

"Hey, flashy, where'd you get it?" Stark greeted his science bro, examining the ring closely. "I don't recognize the metal or the stone."

"Antimony. It represents animalistic power within humans." Bruce said without feeling. "The stone is orange aventurine meant to suppress hunger. I think it was Famine's." He took a long, tasteless sip of his cold tea.

"Funny," Tony helped himself to the cookies as Steve raided the freezer for feel-good foods.. "Wait, from Famine? Like the horseman?"

"Yup." Bruce murmured into his cup, eyes still fixed unblinkingly on the wall.

"You alright, Bruce?" Rogers asked with mother-hen concern.

"M'fine. You need a new sitting room, Tony."

"The Singer guy said we could stop the Apocalypse if we get out hands on all four rings." Stark pried Banner's hand off the cup and tried to pull the antimony ring off but found it stuck fast like War's. "Two down, I guess." Bruce didn't even blink at the talk of 'apocalypse'. He had somewhat expected it.

"What about Famine?" Steve peered around the corner to assess the state of the sitting room and came back looking faint. "Nevermind."

"I thought you couldn't kill Personifications." Tony protested, daring a peek himself.

"I don't think he's dead."

In the middle of the room was the twisted form of a crippled old man who, despite clearly having half the weight he had entered in, was moaning softly. Spread out across the room was the golden blood of an immortal and despite it's metallic colour the stink was easily recognized as large amounts of fresh blood. Despite all he had seen, the damage he and the Hulk had done together, Stark felt bile rise in his throat and retreated back to the comfort of the well-lit, clean kitchen.

"So, yeah. Two down."

Bruce took another long draw of tea.

"Should we... call a doctor?" Captain America suggested. Now that he was listening for it, he thought he could hear quiet stirrings in the next room as the beaten immortal hovered between Dead and Just Pissed Off.

"And say what? 'Oh, this is just an immortal being bent on world destruction. Mind patching him up, doc?'" Stark rolled his eyes and crunched down on another cookie.

"I can help..." Banner spoke softly as guilt and shame twisted his miserable face. "Patch him up and all."

The noise in the sitting room stilled and Steve hurried off to investigate. He found the room still covered in a liberal amount of black blood but the source of the mess had vanished.

* * *

Death hoisted his injured brother gently up into his arms, ignoring the flood of ichor that sprouted from Famine and soaked his otherwise neat suit. He could hear the whispered voices of the mortals in the next room and briefly felt a flash of surprisingly human anger as he carried the dying Personification to a place outside of where one's feet could lead them. His touch was gentle as the Grim Reaper healed the dark horseman of his grievous wounds.

Famine stirred with a weak whine but was swiftly hushed by his older brother and sent back to a more peaceful sleep. He would not remember his encounter with the Hulk or the healing coma that followed.

Death was left in the grip of indecision; two of his brothers had been injured and were now powerless. War's incident was not, however much the other claimed, Death's fault, but Famine's was. The thought of seeing poor little Pest in the same throws of fear and pain twisted something deep inside the Immortal's essence. Not for the first time, Death itched to grab the whelp Lucifer and shake him until the little common sense the fledgling had rattled into proper fear.

The thought had barely formed when he felt the devil tug on his golden chain and was called away from his recovering brother's side.

* * *

 ** _Belua voco liber_ means 'monster call book' and _et huc venerunt- oh inferni_ is 'come here- oh hell(!)'**

 **This is quite a bit smaller then I've done for this fic so far, but I haven't had the time to write, and don't know when I will again.**


End file.
